


Resonant

by sciencefictioness



Series: Resonant [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Courtship, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Exhibitionism, Horns, Knotting, M/M, Muzzles, Ritual Public Sex, Scenting, Soulmates, Voyeurism, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 22:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: The table seems endless stretched between them; polished wood, incense filling the room with smoke, ceremonial cups of sake.  Jesse stares across the length of it, his gaze locked on Hanzo with an intensity usually reserved for the hunt, except he’s never been interested in any prey the way he is now; voraciously.Savagely.Teeth curve long out of his jaw, and his body rolls into the half-shift all on its own.  Ears pricked, tail sprouting from the base of his spine, eyes lit up red. Hanzo is doing no better.His eyes are black, pupils blown wide, nothing but a thin ring of gold set in an impossibly dark sclera.  Jesse watches Hanzo’s horns lengthen, watches his claws extend. Watches his cheeks turn red, even more pronounced against the blue of his skin.Everything goes sideways, as Jesse always expected it would.It just doesn’t go sideways the way he expected.Jesse had been ready for a fight.





	Resonant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keio/gifts).



> Based on some [artwork](https://twitter.com/karabashabasha/status/1102055713919066112) by karabasha. I hope you like it! 
> 
> (not... exactly relevant, really, but I sort of imagine the growly demon noises Hanzo makes sound [like a draugr, when they use a shout](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlnTWISE3fE), and I know that's oddly specific, but here we are.)

The table seems endless stretched between them; polished wood, incense filling the room with smoke, ceremonial cups of sake.  Jesse stares across the length of it, his gaze locked on Hanzo with an intensity usually reserved for the hunt, except he’s never been interested in any prey the way he is now; voraciously.  

 

Savagely.

 

Teeth curve long out of his jaw, and his body rolls into the half-shift all on its own.  Ears pricked, tail sprouting from the base of his spine, eyes lit up red. Hanzo is doing no better.

 

His eyes are black, pupils blown wide, nothing but a thin ring of gold set in an impossibly dark sclera.  Jesse watches Hanzo’s horns lengthen, watches his claws extend. Watches his cheeks turn red, even more pronounced against the blue of his skin.

 

Everything goes sideways, as Jesse always expected it would.

 

It just doesn’t go sideways the  _ way  _ he expected.

 

Jesse had been ready for a  _ fight. _

 

He was tired heading into the negotiations.  Sore all over, twitchy and irritated. Not just Jesse himself; the full moon has come, and passed, and the whole pack is on edge.  They spent the last three nights deep in their territory holding mating runs with the neighboring wolf packs, all of the unmated weres blindfolded as they moved in the trees.  Magic thick in their veins, runes traced over their skin in blood and clay, shafts of moonlight filtering through the branches overhead to sing them songs. 

 

No one was surprised when Jesse came out the other side alone, still in his half-shift and howling forlorn at the sky.

 

It is rare for anyone to find their true mate, these days— one in a hundred, if not less.  It’s customary to hold the runs before seeking a mate elsewhere, though, so Jesse goes through the motions.  Lets his pack mage paint the runes on him, and murmur the spells that would carry him to his other half. 

 

So long as they were bathed in moonlight.  So long as they were close.

 

Night after night after night, but if Jesse has a destined mate, they are somewhere far away.  Hidden from the moon, and from his magic, well out of reach. Jesse doesn’t expect anything else; even if his instincts are worn thin, the mating runs are mostly a formality.

 

Something Jesse has to do before he goes to meet Hanzo, the unmated heir ascending to lead the Shimada clan.

 

The demons Jesse’s pack shares much of its territory with have spent the last week inviting a score of eligible supernaturals to their stronghold in hopes of securing a new alliance.  The sires of local vampire nests, a pair of archdruids, and a handful of Alpha weres, among others. Jesse is one of the last to make his way to Shimada castle, all of his pack elders in tow and on the defensive.  So far the negotiations aren’t going well for anyone involved.

 

Hanzo Shimada is both incredibly beautiful, and, if the rumors are to be believed, incredibly vicious.  One of the Alpha weres left the castle in pieces after offending him and Jesse isn’t looking to follow suit.  He and his crew are ready for a brawl, should it come to that.

 

It doesn’t come to that.

 

It comes to something else entirely.

 

Things start off amicably enough.  Jesse and his elders are brought into the banquet hall, where weary but polite servants offer them food and drink.  Jesse is seated at a low table, his pack taking their place behind him, standing along the walls. The procession of potential suitors has obviously been tiring for the Shimadas; the customs are all observed, but at this point they are merely going through the motions.  

 

They are expecting nothing from Jesse, except perhaps more bloodshed.  

 

Then Hanzo comes in, gold-eyed and gorgeous, horns curving up from either side of his head.  Muscled, and strong, long hair tied back in yellow silk. Dark red markings spread out under his eyes, and over his brows, bisecting his chin.  More color swirls down his arms and chest and shoulder on one side— sacred tattoos, the marks of the Shimada familiars. They are faint indigo, barely visible at the moment, but they’ll light up vividly in the right circumstances.  In a fight he needs help to win.

 

Or coming together with his true mate, except the Shimada clan must’ve given up on that, considering Jesse is at their table.

 

Hanzo’s eyes catch on Jesse, and linger there, lips parting as he stares.  Nostrils flaring, eyes pulsing with light for a moment. He’s frozen in place, everyone watching him expectantly.  Then his brother nudges his shoulder, and Hanzo shakes himself, taking his seat at the table with his chin raised high.

 

They drink together, the sake warm and strong as it goes down, pooling heavy in Jesse’s belly.  They eat together, mouthfuls of raw fish on a bed of rice. Hanzo is deft with his chopsticks. 

 

Jesse shovels a single hefty bite into his mouth with his fingers before chasing it with more sake.  

 

There is no point in pretending to be anything other than himself.  The demons will agree to an alliance, or they will not, and no amount of bowing and scraping on his part is going to change that.  Hanzo watches him with one eyebrow raised, the ghost of a smile on his face. 

 

“Are they not feeding you back at the gorge?”  Hanzo asks, and Jesse shrugs, and pats at his stomach.

 

“Think I’m doing all right.  Appreciate the invitation. It’s an honor to be granted an audience.”  The words fall of his tongue without thought. They aren’t disingenuous; just well practiced pleasantries.  Then Jesse grins, eyes glinting with the faintest light. “Heard the courtship initiations haven’t been going so well.  One fella in particular had an especially bad time, they say. Came in one piece, left in five.”

 

Hanzo does smile then, wide and toothy.

 

“He was… less than deferential.”  Now Jesse cocks up a brow, a wry look on his face, and Hanzo waves his fingers dismissively through the air.  “He tried to scent mark me in greeting.”

 

“Tried to do more than that,” Hanzo’s brother says from beside him, rolling his eyes.  Hanzo isn’t carrying a weapon. His brother has a pair of swords; Jesse winces.

 

“Yeah, I reckon that’d do it.”  

 

There’s a soft groan from off to his left— one of the pack elders on the edges of the room cringing at his awkwardness, and Jesse doesn’t blame them.  He’s usually… not eloquent, exactly, but charming at least. Flirtatious when he needs to be, and there was never a better time than now, but Jesse can’t seem to find the right words.

 

He keeps watching Hanzo’s lips.  The red lines on his face, the delicate splay of his fingers.  The curve of Hanzo’s horns— blue laced through with crimson, sharp enough to gut him.

 

Jesse wants to put his mouth on them.  Wants to sink his teeth in the column of Hanzo’s throat, taste the decadent spill of his blood.  Pull all that ink-black hair down and bury his fist in it. 

 

Hold Hanzo in place, take him until his knot locks them together, and never let him go again.

 

The need is overpowering.  He hasn’t felt anything like it since his first full moon as a wolf, looking up at the night sky and knowing he was right where he belonged.  Jesse can smell his own lust spiking in the air, the unchecked fog of his need making his pack eye him with guarded wariness. It isn’t all he can smell.

 

There is something else starting to build, barely noticeable but thicker with every breath.  Something warm Jesse can’t place, and it makes his teeth ache with the need to bite. Makes his jaw clench, and his claws grow, half-shift rolling over him like a sigh.

 

A servant hands Hanzo a scroll, which he gives only the briefest of looks.  It’s one Jesse recognizes, one he signed himself. A list of his pack’s holdings and alliances, a map of their territory, the names of their rivals.  It’s what he’s here to discuss; what his pack can do for Hanzo. Why he is the best choice for their clan, as opposed to Hanzo’s other suitors.

 

Hanzo drops it onto the table like it’s of no concern to him.  Jesse frowns.

 

“Something wrong, Shimada?”

 

Hanzo seems to be having the same problem as Jesse.

 

Like it’s impossible to tear his eyes away.  Every demon in the room is throwing him glances, all of them confused and uncertain except for his brother, who is grinning wider by the second.  Hanzo’s chest rises and falls faster than it should, cheeks flushed, eyes keen. 

 

The table stretches for miles.

 

Sideways is an understatement.  

 

Hanzo reaches forward and puts his hand on the lacquered wooden box in front of him, shoving it across the table without taking his gaze off Jesse.  It slides easily, several demons scrambling to pull their cups out of the way. Jesse puts his hand out to stop it, tracing over the hasp with his thumb, looking up at Hanzo with a rough exhale.

 

It’s a courtship offering, traditionally some kind of fabric marked with the scent of the giver.  Something they can wear once the courtship has begun, until the ceremony is completed, to announce that they’ve been formally claimed.  Jesse brought one of his own, of course— a red bandana he’s been sleeping in for weeks now— but he hadn’t honestly expected to be giving it away today.

 

He opens the lid of the box and Hanzo’s scent hits him like lightning.  Shoots through every inch of Jesse, and he lifts the yellow ribbon up to his nose and snarls.  It’s like nothing he’s ever smelled before; fire in his lungs, honey on his tongue.

 

Hanzo is so close.  Everything he’s ever needed.

 

This is what all the folklore tries and fails to put into words.  All the legends, and myths, and fairy tales. How it feels to realize he’s been empty all this time.  How nothing in the world matters as much as Hanzo. 

 

The knowledge that he’d die for him, a thousand times, if it meant keeping him safe.  Jesse doesn’t even  _ know  _ him.  It doesn’t matter; Hanzo is his.

 

Has always been, since well before Jesse met him.  Will always be, long after they are gone.

 

Jesse snarls again.

 

It isn’t words, just guttural rumbling as his lip curls back from his teeth, but Ana gets the message all the same.  She steps forward from behind Jesse and hands off a box to one of Hanzo’s servants, Jesse’s bandana tucked inside. They set it in front of Hanzo with a bow, backing away as he flips open the lid and brings the scrap of red fabric to his face.  

 

Etiquette dictates the receiver put on the token after sampling it, to formally indicate their willingness to proceed with the courtship.  

 

Hanzo breathes in, and growls so loudly that everyone present save Jesse shrinks into themselves, a few of Jesse’s wolves whining in protest.  The tattoo on his left arm flares unearthly bright.

 

Then he scrambles across the table so fast Jesse’s eyes can’t follow— knocking down incense burners, breaking ceramic.  

 

Hanzo lands on top of him with a hiss.  Jesse’s arms close around him, one palm flat between his shoulder blades to press him closer, the other already tugging down his hair.  Someone is laughing— Hanzo’s brother, he thinks, as well as maybe Ana. He doesn’t care. None of them matter. 

 

He gets his fist in Hanzo’s hair, and kisses him  _ hard,  _ growling out a sound that has most of his pack wincing.  Hanzo whines into the kiss, teeth long enough that they scrape Jesse’s lips as he shoves his tongue deeper into Hanzo’s mouth.  Jesse is already hard in his clothes, knot beginning to swell as his fur grows longer around his face. 

 

There are panicked voices.  They sound far away but increasingly urgent, and it’s only later that he pieces together what they’re saying.

 

“Young Master, please.  The rituals must be observed.”

 

It’s one of Hanzo’s elders, a little bit frantic, easing closer to them in Jesse’s periphery.  Reaching out like he’s going to try and pull Hanzo off, and Jesse breaks their kiss, tucking Hanzo’s face into his throat and baring his teeth at him.

 

“He has to join us on the blood run, Jesse.  You cannot do this now.”

 

That’s Ana.  She doesn’t sound worried, and she doesn’t approach, but he can see her digging in the folds of her clothes.  Another of Jesse’s packmates does take a step towards them, ready to intervene.

 

As though any of them are strong enough to take Hanzo from him.  As though he’s not overflowing with power right now, more wolf than man, every inch of him ready for a fight.

 

Then Hanzo lets out a noise Jesse has never heard before.  Something between a growl and a screech; all the demons present fall to their knees, hands over their ears and eyes wrenched shut.

 

All but Hanzo’s brother, who is roaring with laughter, bent at the waist and clutching his stomach.

 

“Oh, gods,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes, “this is beautiful.”

 

“Master Genji, I beg you.  Restrain him,” someone pleads.

 

“Alpha, you cannot,” another insists.

 

Jesse can, and he  _ will,  _ and no ancient list of traditions and rituals and pack law is going to stop him from putting his teeth in Hanzo’s neck, and keeping them there.

 

Anyone who tries is going to be feeling it for  _ weeks,  _ carrying scars until the day they die.

 

Something sharp pricks Jesse’s throat, just under his pulse point.  

 

Hanzo tenses in his arms, and then slowly goes limp.  Jesse has to catch him, but his movements are clumsy, and they both fall sideways into the floor.  There is a dart sticking out of Hanzo’s skin, right in the curve of his shoulder.

 

Right where Jesse’s teeth belong; feathered at the end, bright red tufts tipped in gold.  One of Ana’s darts. 

 

He gropes at Hanzo as best he can, trying to pull him close, but sleep is already taking him.  Ana crouches down over him, blurry and indistinct. He growls at her, and snaps his teeth. 

 

She pats him on the head.

 

“You’re going to be okay,” she says, and then everything is black.

 

-

 

Hanzo wakes up furious, alive with rage.  

 

He’s on his feet running through the halls of the castle in an instant, instincts carrying him unerringly towards his mate.

 

Towards Jesse, who feels very far away, now.  Every inch of distance between them is agony, and Hanzo hurts with how much he wants him, how badly he needs Jesse close.  His guards give chase, trying to stop him; Hanzo growls out his thrall, the noise sending them all to their knees. Almost a year leading the clan, in practice if not in name, and he’s never had to use it.

 

Now it is all he can do.  Whatever it takes to get to Jesse.  Anything. 

 

Everything.

 

It is Genji who finally tackles Hanzo just outside the temple, wrestling him to the ground, immune to the thrall and snickering to himself.

 

_ “Hanzo,  _ come on!  Calm yourself.”

 

Hanzo slips his hold and falls into a crouch, ready to fight him into submission and be done with it; no one is going to keep him from Jesse, especially not  _ Genji. _

 

Genji indulges him with a grin, and it’s only a handful of seconds into the fray when Hanzo realizes he’s flagging.  Tired, and weak, his dragons silent in his skin. Arcane symbols glow in their place, harsh red painted in ugly slashes over his tattoos.

 

They’ve put runes on him to bind his power.  It’s surprising he managed to use the thrall at all, let alone get so close to the castle gates; the draw of his mate is just that strong.  Hanzo runs his hand over the runes, as though to wipe them away, and his palm burns at the contact. 

 

He roars again, the thrall softer this time, less potent.  Hanzo staggers towards Genji, claws out and teeth bared, clawing drunkenly at him.  The runes are sapping his energy, drugging him into obedience. He ends up in Genji’s arms, breathing hard, every exhale a quiet growl.  

 

“Stop that,” Genji says, tossing Hanzo over his shoulder and heading back towards his quarters.  “Don’t be so dramatic, you’ll have your wolf soon enough.”

 

Hanzo whines.

 

-

 

“You know as well as I do the courtship lasts a month, and you can’t very well seal the mate bond outside of the full moon.  No other pack will respect an illegitimately sealed bond, and no other demons will recognize Hanzo as Lord of his clan if they don’t perform their rituals.   You’re being  _ ridiculous,”  _ Ana says, not for the first time.

 

Jesse growls and swipes at the bars separating them, fully shifted as he has been for days now—  furred all over with a wolf’s snout, and limbs, and teeth. He’s russet brown, fur lighter on his belly but darker over his jaw.  Bipedal but only just, hunched over with his clawed forepaws hanging low in front of him. The silver of the cell he’s in wouldn’t ordinarily burn, except for the spells etched into it, magic keeping him in place.  There’s blood all over the floor where he’s hurt himself gnawing at the bars, gory furrows dug into the stone. 

 

He swipes at the bars again, this time with his left hand.  His prosthesis sparks against them, metal on metal but still useless.

 

Jesse isn’t getting out until Ana sets him free, or the full moon hits; whichever comes first.

 

“The first of the festivities is the blood run.  If you cannot contain yourself by then, I will attend in your stead.”

 

Jesse cannot speak, not with a wolf’s mouth.  He thinks of Ana in the woods with Hanzo, handing over something marked with Jesse’s blood.  All of them running in the darkness of the new moon; his pack, and his mate, all the while he is caged in silver underground.

 

Jesse roars.  He feels his pack flinching even though they can’t hear him, whimpering under the force of their Alpha’s rage.  Ana makes an irritated noise through her teeth at him.

 

“You have a week and half.  Pull yourself together.”

 

Jesse does, but in the end it doesn’t matter.

 

A week and a half later Genji is waiting under the moonless sky for Jesse, carrying a glass vial full of blood, an apologetic look on his face.  It is just the two of them, his pack waiting nearby out of sight.

 

“Hanzo is unable to attend tonight.  I come in his stead, with his fond regards and fervent regret.”

 

The words come out stiffly, like Genji isn’t used to being so formal.  Jesse can’t help the whine he lets out, a mournful, grief-stricken sound.  He’d known Hanzo wasn’t coming well before he’d arrived in the clearing, but feeling it in his bones and hearing it confirmed were separate kinds of punishing.

 

“Is he well?”  Jesse asks, anxiety rising.  Why wasn’t Hanzo there? What was wrong with him?

 

Genji laughs.

 

“Hanzo is  _ feral,”  _ Genji says, lifting his arm to show a half dozen fresh bite wounds.  They’re closed but still scabbed over; considering how quickly demons heal, they must have been inflicted with alarming savagery.  “We’re hoping he can calm himself before the summoning. If not we’ll have to put fresh runes on him. He’s… quite eager to see you, but the clan demands the traditions be kept.  You understand.”

 

Jesse does.

 

He hates it, but he understands.

 

He takes the vial from Genji.  Pours Hanzo’s blood into his palm, and shoves his face into it, falling into the half-shift between one breath and the next.  Genji has brought one of Hanzo’s gis, and Jesse bites into his arm, soaking the fabric with his blood and passing it back. 

 

They run through the darkness together with his pack.  It is hollow, and lonely, and Jesse howls his sorrow to the empty place where the moon is not.

 

Then Genji is gone, and Jesse is alone.

 

His pack surrounds him, and they lay together in a pile, furred skin and soft snores.

 

The sky is black, and the wind is cold, and Jesse listens to the river running in the distance, and doesn’t sleep.

 

They put manacles on him the next night to keep him from getting stuck in his wolf form.  It’s nothing he doesn’t expect, but he still doesn’t like it. Jesse feels the power of them, itching against the skin of his wrists and ankles, keeping him human.  He’s chained to the wall in his cell for the safety of his pack, and he doesn’t blame them for it.

 

Jesse feels more monstrous by the hour.

 

Ana and Genji have been seeing a lot of each other, exchanging gifts in Jesse and Hanzo’s stead.  Neither of them is fit to perform the rituals, it seems.

 

It’s a small comfort to know that Hanzo is in a similar state, seething and indignant, ready to tear his clan apart with his teeth.  

 

Jesse sleeps on a pile of Hanzo’s clothes, now, given to him one by one as the courtship traditions carry on in his absence.   Soft cotton gis, silk kimonos, more ribbons from his hair. Bedding that he’s slept on recently, the scent of his sweat and his need so thick in the fabric that Jesse feels drugged breathing it into his lungs.  There are other offerings as well— sharp knives with gold and silver inlaid in the hilts, a set of three swords in the red of Jesse’s pack. A katana, a wakizashi, a tanto. Throwing stars forged crimson and gold.  

 

A single arrow, broken in half;  Hanzo’s weapon of choice.

 

A gesture symbolizing there will be no violence between them.  It would be of more importance if they’d been warring in the first place, but demons are nothing if not steeped in ritual, and Jesse knows they are ticking off boxes one by one to ensure Hanzo’s ascension is not in question.  He wishes he could return the promise in earnest, but his teeth are sharp, and his claws are long, and his eyes won’t stop glowing.

 

Violence is inevitable.

 

Jesse aches for it.

 

-

 

The moon is vivid in the sky overhead.  As full as Hanzo has ever seen it, hanging low and ominous; vivid red, a blood moon.  

 

It feels like fate.  The stars shimmer crystalline all around it, wispy clouds rolling past.  

 

Hanzo’s hands are bound in front of him, the rope soaked in saltwater and tied with sigil stones.  The runes on his tattoos have been wiped away, but his spirits can’t manifest through the binding on his wrists.

 

Not yet, anyway.  

 

Delicate gold jewelry adorns his horns, carefully placed by Genji.  The elders dressed him in gauzy red robes, and spent all day preparing the altar.  Candles flicker everywhere, the scrying pools running around the raised stone platform filled with pristine water.  Already enspelled, a window as opposed to a mirror.

 

So the demons on the other side of the veil can watch, too.

 

Ordinarily the consummation would be done underground, but Jesse is a wolf, so exceptions have been made.  They set up the altar in the temple of the moon; a small circular amphitheater sunk into the earth, all looming pillars and open sky, benches climbing like stairs around the center.  Half of the seats are already occupied, Hanzo’s clan gathered as they wait for Jesse’s pack to arrive.

 

Genji stands beside him, along with half a dozen wolves who have come early to help keep Hanzo in check.  They aren’t immune to his thrall, but they can bear it better than Hanzo’s kindred, and it’s going to take every one of them to hold him back if he manages to get free of his bonds.

 

Hanzo roars the thrall out anyway, the gathered demons wincing and looking at the ground.  Genji sighs, jerking the loose end of the ropes around Hanzo’s wrists.

 

“If I have to chase you again, I’m going to be really fucking annoyed,” Genji says, and Hanzo turns and hisses at him.  Genji bares his teeth in turn, patience worn thin from a month dealing with Hanzo’s endless indignation. Repainting runes, lining his quarters with salt, trying to keep his power contained.

 

Hanzo is ready to pounce on him when something buried deep in his bones stirs, and comes to life.  

 

A howl breaks the night.  Hanzo echoes it with his thrall, ready to run towards the sound.  

 

Jesse is there.  Jesse is  _ close.   _

 

Jesse and his pack emerge, coming into view over the top steps of the amphitheater.  They make their way down towards the altar in fits and starts, several of Hanzo’s cousins struggling to keep Jesse from breaking free of his chains.  Hanzo’s upper lip curls back from his teeth as he watches, fury rolling through him anew.

 

Jesse is shackled by the wrists and ankles, the chains running between them glowing with spellwork, but that isn’t what has Hanzo vibrating with rage.

 

There’s a basket muzzle fitted over Jesse’s face, silver metal glowing intermittently violet, leather straps pulled tight around his head.  They all stagger down the last few steps, Jesse snapping his teeth, snarling as he fights against the demons who hold his chains. Jesse wolves hang back a bit, all of them shifted in one form of another.  Mostly the half-shift, but there are a few fully shifted wolves, whining in distress every time Jesse growls particularly loud.

 

No amount of magicked silver or sigils or runes is going to be enough to keep Hanzo and Jesse apart for much longer.  Hanzo can feel the moon, now, new power thrumming in his veins. Another gift from Jesse.

 

Both of them stronger, together.

 

The ropes around Hanzo’s wrists give some.  One of the sigil stones tied into them turns black and falls to the ground, disintegrating like spent coal in the ashes of a fire.  Jesse pulls towards Hanzo, knocking two demons to the ground in the process. His irises glow scarlet, sclera jet black, pupils wide and dark.  He’s flushed pink, and sweating, the sounds coming from his throat guttural and vicious. Hanzo doesn’t realize he’s moving forward until there are hands all over him, Genji and a pair of wolves straining to keep him in place.

 

To keep him from Jesse, when he’s been kept away far too long.

 

He sinks his teeth into one of the wolves’ arms, and they let go with a whimper.  Snaps at Genji, who is just fast enough to dodge, letting Hanzo’s jaws click shut on empty air instead.

 

“Say the fucking words, already!  What are you waiting for,” Genji hisses, and a pair of demons step forward with mumbled apologies.

 

They mutter out the sacred words, all of it spoken in Infernal.  Hanzo has heard it many times before; the joining of two souls under the watchful eyes of blood and fire.  The bonds of power, and loyalty, and desire. 

 

It has been so long since a Lord of the clan has found their true mate that the elders forget to include the parts about love.  About destiny.

 

About how Hanzo has been hollow, and needs Jesse to make him whole.

 

Hanzo meets Jesse’s eyes, the stone of the altar all that separates them now, both of them inching inexorably ahead as their keepers hold on as best they can.  They’re breathing hard in time with one another, upper bodies straining, clawed feet dug into the stone underneath them.

 

Only a scant few yards, and Jesse feels worlds away.  

 

Hanzo wants him,  _ needs  _ him.  Burns with it, skin sore and lips swollen and teeth too long for his jaw.  He feels more than hears when the elders are done speaking the words, energy rippling over his tattoos before stilling.

 

A wolf with a patch over one eye and gloves that hum with magic works to unlock the shackles around Jesse’s ankles and wrists.  She’s saying something, too, soft and under her breath, but it isn’t a spell or a ritual. The traditions of Jesse’s pack will come the next night, when Hanzo runs with them under the moon for the first time.  

 

Whatever words she has, they are just for Jesse.  

 

She unfastens his muzzle.  Genji slices through Hanzo’s ropes.

 

They are set loose, and it is only because the altar is between them that they end up atop it. 

 

Jesse has Hanzo pressed against the stone in an instant.  His claws slice through the silk of Hanzo’s robes like paper, tearing them away until they are skin on skin.  Both of them are whining, clutching at each other, trying to shove closer. Hanzo hadn’t realized just how much it physically hurt being away from Jesse until now, when all the pain is gone and there is only bliss in its wake.  Jesse’s mouth is scorching on Hanzo’s, and they kiss frantically. Artlessly. Their tongues spill together, Jesse’s fist buried in Hanzo’s hair, his other arm curling around the small of Hanzo’s back to pull him into an arch. 

 

Hanzo yields.  Lets Jesse put him where he wants him, thighs falling wide so Jesse can slide in between them, jaw aching with how thoroughly Jesse takes his mouth.  

 

The moonlight is a tangible thing on his skin, like the cool water of a stream, or the soft brush of the wind.  The drums have started, thunderously loud, but Hanzo can’t even really hear them— not with Jesse growling into his lips with increasing ferocity.  He breaks their kiss to look at Hanzo, red-eyed and feral, tugging Hanzo’s head to the side to expose his throat.

 

“Mine,” he says, in two voices at once.  His own, and something darker.

 

Something animal.  Hanzo nods.

 

Surges forward, quick as a snake, and sinks his teeth into Jesse’s neck.  

 

The mating bite isn’t something done between demons.  Their familiars are a shared thing, and it’s an energy any demon can feel, not to mention the marks that appear on their skin.  Hanzo and his two dragons have always been an anomaly, but he doesn’t have to wonder why anymore. One of them is for Jesse.

 

Has always been for Jesse, who has no dragon for Hanzo to wear in his skin, but that is okay.

 

He has a wolf for Hanzo to carry in his bones.

 

The urge to bite into Jesse and lock his jaw and hold it there is too strong to resist, the moon sneaking into Hanzo and bringing the animal in him to life.  He tastes blood, and power, and Jesse.

 

Tastes  _ home,  _ and  _ mate,  _ and  _ mine. _

 

Then Jesse bites into Hanzo’s throat with a snarl, and it is ecstasy, pure and unfettered.  

 

The mate bond settles between them— draws tight, and flares hot, and Hanzo will never be alone again.  Jesse lives in him, now, in all the empty spaces in Hanzo, until there is no room left for anything else.

 

Jesse nudges his cock between Hanzo’s thighs.  He’s got his fist around it, hips rocking forward to rub the crown in circles against Hanzo— Hanzo’s  _ wet  _ for him, body overheated and opening to take him in.  Jesse presses forward, and Hanzo’s spine bows. 

 

All this time he’s spent yearning for Jesse, imagining what it would be like, but Hanzo hadn’t been ready for  _ this.   _ The all-consuming pleasure of it.

 

How he can do nothing but  _ feel. _

 

He releases the hold he has on Jesse’s throat to moan, head thrown back as Jesse sinks into him in one rough push.  More, and more, until Hanzo has all of him, every last inch.

 

Jesse lets go of his bite as well, nosing up Hanzo’s jaw, kissing over his cheek and temple.  He runs his tongue up one Hanzo’s horns; Hanzo shivers all over as Jesse laps at it. Touching a demon’s horns is an incredibly intimate act, and no one has ever really put their hands on Hanzo’s before, let alone their mouth.  His cock pulses precome between them as he shudders, Jesse’s lips closed around the base of his horn, tongue working greedily over the surface. His jewelry is in the way, the gold chains wet with Jesse’s drool as he laves and sucks, but Jesse doesn’t seem to mind.  

 

He grinds his hips forward again and again, switching from Hanzo’s left horn to his right, paying it the same loving, reverent attention.  They’re hypersensitive— all of Hanzo is, every inch of skin— but this is different. Jesse’s tongue and lips and teeth on his horns is agonizingly good, and Hanzo does his best to keep still so Jesse can mouth at them as much as he likes.  Hanzo can feel them shifting, growing longer as Jesse lavishes them with affection. 

 

Jesse holds Hanzo’s face between his hands, rumbling out something like a purr, switching between horns as he moves languidly between his thighs.  Hanzo closes his hands around Jesse’s wrists, clinging to him. One of Jesse’s thumbs slips into his mouth, and Hanzo sucks at it with a whimper.

 

Ages have passed when Jesse finally eases back to look at him again, mouth slick and lips swollen.  His horns are soaked, now, the cool night air against them enough to make him shiver all over again.

 

_ “Gorgeous,”  _ Jesse says, tracing over the crimson lines on Hanzo’s face with gentle fingers, wiping away the blood on his chin.

 

Jesse sits up and pulls Hanzo with him, until he’s sitting in his lap, thighs thrown wide over Jesse’s own.  

 

Then he palms Hanzo’s ass, fingers digging in, and starts moving in earnest.  Hanzo buries his hands in the fur behind Jesse’s ears and holds on, his whole body jerking as Jesse ruts into him.  Fast, and hard, and Hanzo rocks with every thrust, Jesse nuzzling into his chest with a sweetness that should be impossible considering how mercilessly he’s fucking him.  He bites him once, twice, leaving rings of sharp teeth before mouthing over them with his tongue.

 

A voice somewhere off to the left has Hanzo’s head snapping up.  

 

Hanzo is so lost in the feeling of Jesse on his skin and in his mouth and stretching him wide that he’s forgotten where they are, forgotten they aren’t alone.  Every eye in the amphitheater is trained on them, glittering with interest as Hanzo is taken. His clan is watching with what is mostly polite detachment; sex isn’t taboo for demons, and watching Jesse and Hanzo fuck is, for the older demons at least, no more risque than if they were simply kissing.  

 

There are several with their eyes lit up gold, though, entranced by the sight, and Jesse’s pack is staring with looks that are far less veiled.  Openly hungry, the lust coming off them in waves. Hanzo can scent it, suddenly, can taste their need on his tongue.

 

The thrall comes out deafeningly loud before he even thinks about opening his mouth.  Everyone shrinks into themselves, wolf and demon alike. Covering their ears, dropping their eyes.  A few of the demons fall to their knees. One of Jesse’s wolves whines. Hanzo’s eyes rove across them all, claws sharper as he clutches at Jesse, teeth bared.  

 

Jesse shushes him, rubbing his face back and forth across Hanzo’s chest.

 

“Shhh, easy, gorgeous.  I’m all yours.”

 

He kisses Hanzo’s throat, lips pressing softly against the ragged imprint of his teeth there.  

 

Hanzo reaches up, finding the mark he’d left on Jesse’s throat and laying his palm over it.  Digs his thumb in, just a little. Snarls.

 

_ “Mine.” _

 

Jesse’s eyes light brighter, and then he is  _ changing.   _ Bones cracking, face shifting, skin disappearing under a layer of fur; it’s not the ears and tail and claws of the half-shift.  

 

This is Jesse’s wolf, long muzzle and mouth full of brutal teeth, tongue lolling as he pants.  He’s bigger all over, dwarfing Hanzo where he lays beneath him, hiding him almost entirely from view.  

 

He’s bigger  _ inside  _ of Jesse, and Hanzo only has a moment to revel in the stretch before Jesse is moving again, the base of his cock already thickening with the promise of his knot.

 

He wraps his arms around Hanzo’s waist and fucks into him; there is already so much of him, and the swell of his knot nudges in further with every thrust.  Hanzo buries his face in Jesse’s fur, fisting his hands in it, letting Jesse take all of his weight.

 

Letting Jesse take all of him.  It is violent, rough enough that Hanzo can’t think through it, can’t form words.

 

It is adoring, Jesse’s clawed fingers holding him tight as he purrs and nuzzles and growls.

 

Then he buries himself deep between Hanzo’s thighs, and his knots swells all at once, filling Hanzo with bursts of heat as he comes, and comes, and comes.

 

Hanzo follows after, trembling through it, twitching out his orgasm between them.  Hanzo’s ears ring, and his head spins, breath coming so fast it hurts his chest.

 

It a dizzying sensation— being owned, and loved, and claimed, for everyone to see.

 

When he returns to himself Jesse is in the half-shift again, mouth built for words, praising Hanzo softly as he peppers kisses all over his face and hair.

 

_ Gorgeous, perfect, taste so good. _

 

“Been waitin’ so long for you,” Jesse slurs out, drunk on Hanzo’s scent, the two of them still knotted together.

 

It pulls, stretching Hanzo further when he moves.  Jesse purrs and holds him closer.

 

They stay tied together for a while, and when Jesse’s knot releases he takes him again.  On his back first, and then his hands and knees. Bent over the side of the altar. In Jesse’s lap, finally, the sun starting to brighten the eastern sky, stars fading out into nothing.

 

The clan and Jesse’s pack are all starting to mill around, ready to leave Hanzo and Jesse to their rest.  The demons clap once each, one by one; a sign of respect before taking their leave, except Jesse is already dozing; mostly asleep, his face tucked into Hanzo’s shoulder.

 

Hanzo rumbles out the thrall under his breath with a hiss.

 

_ “Quiet,  _ all of you,” he whispers, hands petting through Jesse’s fur.  “My mate sleeps.”

 

Then they are alone, the moon long gone from the sky, sun creeping up over the horizon.  

 

They sleep on the altar until the day grows too bright, and then Jesse carries Hanzo back to the castle, and they climb into his bed together.

 

He is Lord of the clan, now, but that hardly matters.

 

Not when he is Jesse’s, too.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tell me nice things, or come yell at me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/scifictioness?lang=en)


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